‘We more or less know what we’re going to do,’ Sparhawk began. ‘Getting to the border shouldn’t be any problem. Kring’s going to lead his men away from his womenfolk anyway, so we’ll have most of the Peloi warriors with us for at least part of the way. That’s going to keep the Zemoch conventional forces at a distance, so we’ll be safe from them until we reach the border. It’s after we cross that line that we’ll run into trouble, and the key to that is Martel. We’re still going to have to push him to the point that he won’t have time to gather up Zemochs to stand in our way.’

‘Make up your mind, Sparhawk,’ Kalten said. ‘First you say we’re not going to ride at night, and then you say you’re going to push Martel.’

‘We don’t have to be actually on top of him to push him, Kalten. As long as he thinks we’re close, he’ll start running. I think I’ll have a little talk with him while I’ve still got some daylight.’ He looked around. ‘I’ll need about a dozen candles,’ he said. ‘Berit, would you mind?’

‘Of course not, Sir Sparhawk.’

‘Set them up on this table – close together and all in a row.’ Sparhawk reached inside his surcoat and took out the Bhelliom again. He put it down on the table and laid a cloth over it to hide its seduction. When the lighted candles were in place, he uncovered the jewel and laid his ringed hands on it. ‘Blue-Rose,’ he commanded, ‘bring Khwaj to me!’

The stone grew hot under his hands again, and the glowing red spot appeared deep within its petals. ‘Khwaj!’ Sparhawk said sharply. ‘You know me. I will see the place where my enemy will sleep tonight. Make it appear in the fire, Khwaj! Now!’

The howl of anger was no longer a howl, but had diminished to a sullen whine. The candle flames lengthened, and their edges joined to form a solid sheet of bright yellow fire. The image appeared in the fire.

It was a small encampment, three tents only, and it lay in a grassy basin with a small lake at its centre. A grove of dark cedar trees stood across the lake from the camp, and a single camp-fire flickered in the lowering dusk at the centre of that half-circle of tents on the lake shore. Sparhawk carefully fixed the details in his mind. ‘Take us closer to the fire, Khwaj!’ he barked. ‘Make it so that we can hear what is being said.’

The image changed as the apparent viewpoint drew nearer. Martel and the others sat around the fire, their faces gaunt with exhaustion. Sparhawk motioned to his friends, and they all leaned forward to listen.